


survivor

by sxftmelody



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, jinsoul's a detective, yves is a criminal sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 12:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxftmelody/pseuds/sxftmelody
Summary: “Becoming friends with a hardened criminal wasn’t part of the job description, was it?” Yves asks.





	survivor

**Author's Note:**

> hi this was just a quick lil sumn sumn i wrote for the funsies and some of the scenes were inspired by silence of the lambs but yves is NOT a cannibal ! that is all! hope u enjoy :D
> 
> tw: mentions of death/murder

Jinsol walks down the dimly-lit hall of the prison block made specifically for prisoners deemed too dangerous to be held in the other areas. She clutches the shoulder strap of her black satchel with a barely-there grip, avoiding the eyes of the peering prisoners pressed up against the thick glass that they’re all contained behind. Without looking, she knows they’re sneering at her, scowling at the way she’s dressed so properly and the way her chins held up high.

 

She continues walking, heels clacking against the floor, until she gets to the last cell. There’s a chair setup in front of the cell for Jinsol and she sits down, reaching into her bag as she does so and pulling out a manila folder.

 

Jinsol opens the folder up, noticing from her peripheral that the cell’s owner hasn’t bothered moving from their spot on the dingy, sad-excuse of a bed.

 

She reads the top of the paper, where the words ‘TOP SECRET’ are stamped in big red letters. Her eyes skim the rest of the paper, not spending too long on the contents because she’s been up nearly all night memorizing each and every bit.

 

**_CASE LA3912: YVES_ **

_APPEARANCE: 5’4, BROWN EYES, BROWN HAIR_

_DANGER LEVEL: 5_

 

“What do you want?” the voice comes out muffled behind the glass.

 

Jinsol looks up from the papers, masking her surprise. She wasn’t expecting Yves to be the first one to talk.

 

“I’m here to ask you a few questions,” Jinsol says, staring at Yves and furrowing her eyebrows when she sees Yves just laying on the bed with an arm outstretched towards the ceiling.

 

The woman drops her arm and then sits up, looking over at Jinsol.

 

“Ask all you want,” she says, pressing her palms against the edge of the bed and making eye-contact with Jinsol, “just know that I’m stubborn.”

 

“That’s okay,” Jinsol replies, “so am I.”

 

Yves quirks an eyebrow at this, a smirk finding its way onto her lips. She stands, walking over to the glass and standing there so Jinsol has to tilt her head up to look at her.

 

She opens the small opening used to pass food-trays to her so their voices can reach each other without sounding so muffled.

 

Jinsol nods knowingly, and they stare at each other in silence. Jinsol takes the moment to examine Yves, and notices that she’s very attractive, noting how elegantly she seems to carry herself even when she’s locked up in a prison.

 

“You didn’t need to tell me about your stubbornness,” is what Jinsol ends up saying after a few seconds, “I’ve been told that I’m not the first—or the _sixth_ —person sent to talk to you.”

 

“Hmm, well,” Yves hums, smirk still on her lips, “you’re definitely the prettiest one to be sent to me.”

 

Jinsol narrows her eyes, “You probably said that to the six people who came before me, no?”

 

“No,” Yves shakes her head, “you’re the first woman they’ve sent.”

 

Jinsol lets out a breath, unbothered by the blatant flirting. It’s not like this is the first time someone’s she’s had to interrogate tried to hit on her. _It’s getting old_.

 

“You’re being put on death-row,” Jinsol says after a moment, glancing down at the papers on her lap before looking back up. Yves arms are crossed against her chest now, her hip slightly jutted out. “But the court’s willing to lower the punishment if you plead guilty.”

 

Yves laughs, short and loud, before her face dims, “And what if… I’m _not_ guilty?”

 

“We caught you _red-handed_ at the scene,” Jinsol reminds Yves, “that’s not something that screams innocence.”

 

“Humor me, then,” Yves turns on her heels and starts pacing the small cell, “if I _was_ innocent, and I didn’t plead guilty because, well, I’m _innocent_ —would I still be put on death-row?”

 

She stops walking with the last word that comes out of her mouth, turning and facing Jinsol once more.

 

“I’m not here to deal with hypotheticals,” Jinsol replies monotonously, “I’m here—”

 

“ _To get me to confess to being in charge of the largest hitman association in the world_ ,” Yves cuts her off with an exasperated sigh, words coming out robotic. She goes to lay back down on the bed, bringing her arms over her eyes and breathing deeply, “yes, I know.”

 

Jinsol frowns at the woman’s nonchalance at the topic.

 

“We have _multiple_ witnesses claiming that you’re the boss,” Jinsol says, unsure if Yves is still listening to her, “we caught you, Yves.”

 

“Do you believe in life after death, detective?”

 

“Excuse me?” Jinsol looks at Yves in confusion.

 

Yves sits up, immediately locking eyes with Jinsol as she does so.

 

“Life after death,” she repeats, “do you believe in it?”

 

Jinsol contemplates whether she should answer the question or not, debates on if it’s just a waste of time.

 

Yves snorts at the hesitation, shaking her head and going to lay back down, “Forget it—”

 

“No.”

 

Yves pauses, sitting back up, “No?”

 

“No,” Jinsol answers, “I don’t.”

 

“Hm,” Yves hums, taking a moment to let the reply sink into her before she nods, “so: once I’m gone, I’m _gone_?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh, thank _God_ ,” Yves chuckles.

 

Jinsol’s frown deepens.

 

She feels like Yves is just making a joke out of all of this, as if countless innocent lives haven’t been taken away because of her, as if she shouldn’t be held accountable for her actions, and her blood starts to boil.

 

Yves’ chuckles die down when she notices the crinkle between Jinsol’s eyebrows and the downwards curve of her lips. She narrows her eyes.

 

“Have I upset you?” she asks, not in a condescending way but not in a caring way either—more so in a curious way.

 

“Yes,” Jinsol answers truthfully.

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“You’re not taking me seriously,” Jinsol says.

 

“And do people often not take you seriously?” Yves asks.

 

Jinsol stays silent.

 

Yves tilts her head.

 

“Is it because you’re a woman?”

 

Silence.

 

“I know the feeling,” Yves scoots back against the bed until she’s leaning back on the wall, head turned towards Jinsol, “having to fight your way to the top… having to always prove your worth even though you shouldn’t have to. To make yourself important to people who never cared about you in the first place.”

 

For a second, Jinsol notices how Yves dropped her nonchalant demeanor. She notices the far-away look in her eyes and the clenching of her jaw.

 

Yves nods, repeating once more: “I know the feeling.”

 

…

 

“Is that what you had to do in the association?” Jinsol asks.

 

The smirk returns to Yves’ face, sucking her teeth and shaking her head, “ _Tsk_. Are you always this one-track-minded?”

 

“I’m here to do my job, not to make friends,” Jinsol says, silently cursing at the fact that Yves had gone back to putting up a facade.

 

“Right,” Yves says, quietly. She sighs and slumps her shoulders, “go ahead, then. What questions do you have?”

 

Jinsol blinks, surprised at the sudden change of attitude.

 

Yves smiles—not smirks—at the detective’s change in expression, “Women always have to go above and beyond to prove their worth. I figured I’d make it easier for you.”

 

Jinsol nods warily, cautiously, “Okay, then.”

 

She flips through the papers on her lap, clicking her pen and getting prepared to take notes.

 

“Yves isn’t your real name, is it?” she asks, looking up at Yves.

 

“No,” Yves answers, “but it might as well be. I don’t remember ever being called anything else.”

 

“What _is_ your real name, then?”

 

“I’m not telling you,” Yves replies, much to Jinsol’s chagrin, “no questions about me or my family. Keep it association related.”

 

Not quite liking how Yves is setting the rules, Jinsol reminds herself that _Yves_ is the one being imprisoned, and tries to ignore how smug Yves’ smile has become.

 

“Alright, the association then,” Jinsol taps the paper, “how long has it been a thing?”

 

“Long before me, that’s for sure,” Yves rolls her eyes, “come _on_ , detective. Give me questions you _can’t_ find the answer to with a quick Google search.”

 

Jinsol stares at the woman, _really_ stares. Yves stares right back, as if she’s challenging Jinsol.

 

The detective clicks her pen.

 

She leans forward in her seat, elbows on her knees as she looks at Yves.

 

“How many people have you killed, Yves?”

 

Yves’ eyes widen the slightest bit.

 

…

 

“Do you genuinely want to know?” Yves asks, voice low.

 

Jinsol nods firmly.

 

“Two,” Yves answers shortly, “just two.”

 

It’s a lower number than Jinsol expected.

 

“Who?”

 

“No one you’d know or care about,” Yves replies.

 

“It doesn’t matter if I don’t know them or care about them— _someone_ did,” Jinsol says heatedly, “everyone’s death causes an impact on _someone_.”

 

Yves grits her teeth, “You wouldn’t understand.”

 

Jinsol can feel Yves pulling away, can feel her starting to shut down.

 

“Then help me understand,” she says quickly, causing Yves’ eyes to snap back onto her, “if you don’t think I’d understand, then help me.”

 

Yves narrows her eyes slightly, as if she can see if Jinsol’s just bullshitting her, but she can’t, so she leans back against the wall and hums.

 

“The only two people I’ve killed were people who would’ve killed me if I hadn’t killed them,” she says.

 

“It was for self-defense, then?”

 

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

 

Jinsol freezes, “Would you lie to me?”

 

Yves smirks, “I’m on death-row. There’s nothing much I have going for me.”

 

“Good point,” Jinsol replies, “so, why were they trying to kill you?”

 

Yves shrugs, “They had their reasons, I’m sure. They just never told me.”

 

“Because you killed them,” Jinsol says.

 

“Yup,” Yves replies, popping the ‘p’. She lifts an eyebrow, “what about you?”

 

“What _about_ me?”

 

“How many people have _you_ killed?”

 

Jinsol purses her lips.

 

“One.”

 

Yves doesn’t skip a beat, “Why?”

 

“Self-defense,” Jinsol answers.

 

Yves pauses.

 

…

 

“Do you feel guilty for killing them?”

 

“Yes,” Jinsol answers, “but I’m glad to be alive.”

 

Yves smiles again, closed-lip, “You’ve got a heart of gold, detective.”

 

“Do _you_ feel guilty?” Jinsol replies, “For the two people you’ve killed. Do you feel any type of remorse?”

 

“No,” Yves says, “and it’s not because I’m some sociopath. I know what feelings are, I know what emotions feel like. I killed those two because they put me and somebody I loved in danger, and I won’t feel guilty for protecting myself.”

 

“Somebody you loved…” Jinsol repeats, “you didn’t mention somebody else earlier.”

 

“She’s gone now, so…” Yves says, “she didn’t need to be mentioned.”

 

“What was her name?” Jinsol asks.

 

Yves tenses up.

 

“Chuu.”

 

Jinsol writes the name down, circling it and putting a question mark next to it before she looks back up at Yves. The woman is staring at the wall across the cell, no longer looking at Jinsol.

 

“And this Chuu… when you said that she was gone, did you mean—?”

 

“She’s gone,” Yves cuts Jinsol off, “take it as you will. I’m not going any further with this conversation.”

 

“Is she dead?”

 

“No,” Yves says. She turns to glare at Jinsol, “but if you try to find her, I’ll make sure _you_ are.”

 

Jinsol barely flinches at the threat, “You’re in no position to be making threats towards me, Yves.”

 

Yves doesn’t back down.

 

“Head of the association, am I not?”

 

“Are you admitting that you are?”

 

Yves grins, “I never said that.”

 

_And they’re back to square one._

 

“Was Chuu your lover, Yves?” Jinsol proceeds, having enough of this goose chase leading to nowhere. This Chuu girl seems to be a sore spot for Yves, and Jinsol’s going to use this to her advantage to get what she wants.

 

“Sure,” Yves replies, hardening her facial expression, “I guess you could say that.”

 

“What happened to her, then?” Jinsol asks.

 

Yves stays quiet. She tightens her jaw and it’s visible to Jinsol.

 

The detective continues the questioning, “Did she realize you were part of something illegal and leave? Or did she know and want to stay with you?”

 

No response.

 

“Did you kill those two people because they tried to hurt her?”

 

…

 

“No, yes, and yes,” Yves whispers through her teeth.

 

She gets up from the bed and walks towards the glass wall. She shuts the food-tray opening.

 

“I’m done talking for the day,” she says coldly, turning on her heel to go lay down once more.

 

Jinsol leaves as Yves gets into the position she’d been in when Jinsol had first arrived.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**encounter #2**

 

Jinsol enters the small interrogation room, immediately locking eyes with the woman sat in the chair behind the small metal table. Her ankles and wrists are strapped down, only allowing movement of her neck and head.

 

“Detective Jung,” Yves says as a greeting.

 

Jinsol raises an eyebrow, not remembering when she’d told Yves her name before.

 

“Some nuthead over there told me your name,” Yves nods towards the one-sided mirror.

 

Sitting down across Yves, Jinsol nods, “How have you been, Yves?”

 

Yves seems taken aback at the question, “Pretty shitty, but thanks for asking. And yourself?”

 

“I’d be a lot better if this case didn’t keep me up all night.”

 

“ _Awe_ , I keep you up at night?” Yves pouts.

 

Jinsol doesn’t give her a satisfaction of a response.

 

She digs through the papers, digs through all the research she’s done over the past couple of weeks since she last met with Yves, and pulls out a photograph.

 

“This is Chuu, isn’t it?”

 

She holds the paper up for Yves, and the woman starts to struggle against the straps. She tries to lunge forward, only for her body to fall back against the chair.

 

Her eyes display all the anger and fury that her fists cannot.

 

“How did you find that photo?” she hisses.

 

“I have my ways,” Jinsol says, turning the photo back to herself and tucking it into the folder, “who is she, Yves?”

 

Yves eyes are angry, but Jinsol spots fear in them as well.

 

“She’s not involved in this,” Yves says hurriedly, ignoring the tears that start to build up in her eyes, “I swear she’s not involved in this. I swear. I _swear_!”

 

“Calm down,” Jinsol says lowly, noticing how red Yves’ wrists are getting, “I believe you.”

 

Yves doesn’t calm down, but she stops struggling.

 

She stares at Jinsol, “She’s not involved with this. Leave her out of it.”

 

“Where did she go?”

 

Yves grits her teeth, “I’m not going to tell you that.”

 

“Yves, where did you send her off to?”

 

“None of your _fucking_ business,” Yves spits, “grill me with questions all you want, but I’m not telling you _shit_ about Chuu. She’s safe and far away from me, and that’s _all_ I care about.”

 

Jinsol nods, writing down notes for herself later and then looking back up at Yves.

 

“Real name: Kim Jiwoo,”

 

Yves’ eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

 

“She works as a barista now, did you know that?”

 

Yvves’ eyebrows furrow angrily, jaw tight.

 

“I was going to pay her a visit last week, but there was a storm that interfered with all off the flights.”

 

“ _Don’t…_ ” Yves whispers.

 

She seems very exhausted all of a sudden, and Jinsol sets her pen down to really look at her.

 

“Don’t,” Yves repeats as a tear rolls down her cheek, “ _please_ , don’t.”

 

“Then _answer my questions_ ,” Jinsol replies, finding it hard to keep up her cold demeanor when she sees Yves’ shoulders begin to shake.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Yves gasps out, making eye-contact with Jinsol, eyes narrowed, “what are your _fucking_ questions?”

 

“Are you the head of the association?” Jinsol asks.

 

“No,” Yves answers.

 

“Who’s the head?”

 

“If I said a name, you wouldn’t know it,” Yves whispers tiredly. She closes her eyes, more tears squeezing out, “if you thought catching _me_ was hard, you’re going to be _very_ unprepared trying to catch him.”

 

Jinsol frowns, “Then why have you been acting like the head this entire time? Are you buying time for something else? Is there a plan we don’t know about?”

 

Yves winces at the onslaught of questions.

 

She keeps her eyes closed, “One question at a time, _detective…_ ”

 

“Why have you been acting like the head this entire time?” Jinsol repeats, standing from her chair to lean over the desk.

 

Yves opens her eyes, lifting her head to look up at Jinsol.

 

She manages a weak smile, “We talked about proving ourselves, didn’t we?”

 

“ _Who_ are you trying to prove yourself to?” Jinsol asks.

 

“My uncle,” Yves says, the smile on her lips becoming sad.

 

“Who’s your uncle?”

 

“The head.”

 

Jinsol turns her head to the one-sided mirror, behind which she’s sure multiple people have begun to hurry about.

 

She then quickly begins to gather her things. Yves watches the blonde woman pack up.

 

“Detective Jung,” she calls out just before Jinsol can open the door.

 

Jinsol pauses, turning to look at Yves.

 

“I beg you,” she says quietly, “please let Jiwoo live freely.”

 

Jinsol doesn’t say anything (she knows they have an audience watching them), but she nods subtly.

 

Yves gets the idea, and her eyes fall to her lap.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**encounter #3**

 

Yves is in the middle of doing push-ups when Jinsol reaches her cell nearly two months later. After having confessed her position in the association, she’s being detained and questioned for further information, but is no longer on death-row.

 

“Yves,” Jinsol calls out even though she knows that Yves is aware of her presence.

 

Yves looks up from her position on the ground, the veins in her neck bulging at the angle and the pressure of her push-ups.

 

She looks back down at the ground, continuing to count under her breath.

 

Jinsol lets out a sigh and kneels down.

 

She taps on the glass with her knuckle, “I talked to Chuu.”

 

Yves freezes. She has a sneer on her face as she stands, stretching her arms and looking down at Jinsol, “I told you not to look for her.”

 

She cracks her neck, eyes closed.

 

Jinsol hums, “I did it off-the-record.”

 

Yves opens her eyes, quirking an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

 

“I didn’t tell the bureau about my trip to visit her,” Jinsol says, “but considering how easy it was for me to track her down by myself, I figured I’d give her a heads-up. You clearly want her safe, so I made sure of that.”

 

“What’d you do?” Yves moves to sit in front of the glass, just in front of Jinsol.

 

“I gave her everything she’d need to start anew,” Jinsol replies, “told her I was a friend of yours.”

 

“Oh, we’re friends now?” Yves manages the tiniest smile.

 

“No,” Jinsol shakes her head, but her lips have involuntarily curved up as well, “but I’m not going to let an innocent person get in harm’s way. It goes against my job.”

 

“Right,” Yves rolls her eyes lightheartedly, reaching up to open the food-tray latch, “so, why’d you _actually_ do it? What questions do you have for me to answer today, detective?”

 

Jinsol stifles a groan at how quickly Yves can put up a cold front.

 

“How does it feel being off of death row?”

 

“Horrible,” Yves replies easily, “I was actually looking forward to it.”

 

“Yves…” Jinsol sighs disappointingly.

 

Yves rolls her eyes again.

 

Jinsol decides to change the subject, “The witnesses who said you were the head of the association are being re-questioned.”

 

Yves shrugs, “They’re going to kill me the first chance they get.”

 

“They?”

 

“The association,” Yves replies, “I fucked up their plan.”

 

Jinsol frowns, “But isn’t your uncle the boss?”

 

Yves tilts her head, “If my uncle gave a _single_ shit about me, do you think I’d be in this cell in the first place?”

 

Jinsol’s confusion increases, “So why did you tell us the truth?”

 

Yves leans back, pressing her palms on the dirty floor as she does so, “You threatened to put the one person I care about in danger.”

 

When Jinsol doesn’t respond immediately, Yves chuckles.

 

“I knew you were bluffing, though.”

 

“What?”

 

“About Chuu. I knew you were bluffing. I knew you weren’t going to hurt her,” Yves says casually, letting out another shrug, “I guess I just… needed the excuse to do something good.”

 

“And you put your life on the line for it?”

 

“It’s my life or a hundred lives,” Yves replies, “Tell me, detective, did you find my uncle yet?”

 

“No,” Jinsol answers, “too many people are pretending to be him. We can’t tell for sure who’s who.”

 

Yves snorts, “That’s to be expected.”

 

“Can you give us any sort of clue about what he looks like?”

 

“No,” Yves says.

 

Jinsol opens her mouth to speak again, but Yves cuts her off.

 

“I’ll give _you_ a clue,” Yves continues, smiling and scrunching up her nose, “I don’t really give a shit about the others.”

 

The detective nods, keeping a professional look on her face as she waits for Yves to talk again.

 

“He has a nasty scar on his right bicep,” Yves states, “and he has a lazy left eye.”

 

Jinsol jots down notes.

 

“He sort of has a lisp, but it’s subtle,” Yves continues. She watches Jinsol’s hands move as she scribbles across the paper. She takes the moment to look at the detective, to _really_ look at her.

 

She takes in the woman’s tired eyes, noticing how put together everything about her is _besides_ her eyes. Yves bites her lip at this and thinks, maybe, _maybe_ , in a world where she wasn’t involved in illegal business, she’d like to get to know the detective.

 

…

 

“Hey, Detective Jung?”

 

“Hm?” Jinsol looks up from her clipboard.

 

Yves’ head is still tilted, but her faux playfulness and distant eyes have softened.

 

“Thanks for keeping Chuu safe,” she says quietly, “I know you didn’t have to do that.”

 

Jinsol feels something inside of her shift as she gives a smile.

 

“Of course,” she nods, “just one look at her and I could tell that she’s the purest of the pure.”

 

Yves laughs at this, a genuine laugh that makes her head fall back and her eyes close.

 

“Very true,” she says as her chuckles die down, “I think that’s what made me attracted to her in the first place.”

 

“How did you meet Chuu?”

 

Yves’ eyes widen at the question, clearly not having expected Jinsol to ask about her relationship with the girl.

 

“Some bastards were bothering her so I beat them up,” Yves says, “she took me to her apartment to give me an ice-pack for my knuckles. I kissed her when she gave me a package of frozen peas instead.”

 

Jinsol smiles at this, letting out an amused laugh.

 

Yves grins, reminiscing on the past, “I don’t remember ever truly being happy before meeting her.”

 

Yves says this in a way that doesn’t seek sympathy, but it’s still sad nonetheless and Jinsol feels her heart skip a beat.

 

“Have you always been involved with the association?” Jinsol lowers her voice.

 

“Yes,” Yves replies, “but I was never sent out as a hitman. I refused to be one. I did all the planning instead.”

 

Dread bubbles up in Jinsol’s stomach. She wanted Yves to be innocent somehow, but she just admitted to being involved, to being a criminal.

 

“My uncle raised me,” Yves continues, “sort of. He paid people to raise me and take care of me until I was old enough for him to start training me for the _family business_.”

 

It’s hard for Jinsol _not_ to feel bad for Yves.

 

She scribbles down: ‘born into the association’ on her paper.

 

“And now I’m in prison for trying to cover his ass,” Yves sighs loudly, laying down on the ground and staring up at the ceiling as she then whispers: “ _and_ **_now_ ** _I’m ratting his ass out_.”

 

“You’re doing the right thing.”

 

Yves snorts.

 

“The _right thing_ is going to get me murdered,” she says, “at least I have nothing to live for anymore.”

 

“What about Chuu?”

 

“She’s safer without me,” Yves says, “my time to love her has passed.”

 

“Well… What about yourself?”

 

“What?”

 

“What about living for yourself?”

 

Yves sits up, elbows on her knees as she stares at Jinsol with furrowed eyebrows.

 

“Detective Jung,” Yves starts off, “I don’t remember _ever_ being able to live for myself.”

 

“It’s never too late to start,” Jinsol replies, “you’re young, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m twenty-five.”

 

“So am I,” Jinsol hums, “it’s not too late.”

 

Yves gets silent, but keeps her eyes focused on Jinsol’s. Jinsol feels like she’s being analyzed (because she is), and tries hard not to let the warmth creeping up her neck reach her cheeks.

 

She looks down at the notes in her lap, “I’m here to ask you about other members of the association.”

 

When Jinsol looks back up, Yves isn’t looking at her anymore.

 

She’s rolling her eyes and laughing humorlessly.

 

“What are the questions?”

 

“Nickname White Bird,” Jinsol reads off of a list, “do you know anything about them?”

 

“Nope,” Yves shakes her head, “I don’t have many friends, detective.”

 

“Is there _anything_ else you can tell us about the association?” Jinsol looks up, “Anything that’ll help us get to your uncle?”

 

Yves shrugs, “To be honest, Detective Jung, no, I don’t.”

 

Jinsol frowns, trying to figure out whether Yves is just messing around or not, but she seems to be telling the truth.

 

“My uncle was as hard to reach for me as he is to you all,” she gestures vaguely towards Jinsol, “the only way I’d get him to come to me was by fucking something up.”

 

Jinsol glances down at the watch on her wrist, sighing when she sees that it’s nearing six in the evening.

 

Yves notices this and quirks an eyebrow.

 

“Late for a date, detective?” Yves asks playfully.

 

“A date with the _chief of police_ , sure,” Jinsol grunts, getting up from the ground and packing up her things, “I probably won’t be back to talk to you any time soon so... take care.”

 

Yves stands, too, and Jinsol notices the slight height difference between them.

 

“Yeah,” Yves mumbles, nodding and looking down at Jinsol, head tilting, “you, too, detective.”

 

Jinsol nods once more as a goodbye before turning and walking down the hall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**encounter #4**

 

There’s a gash across Yves’ cheek the next time Jinsol visits her. She’d gotten it during one of the court hearings, someone from the association clearly came to hurt her.

 

(Jinsol heard from people there that Yves did a lot more damage to the man sent to kill her than he did to her, even with being cuffed and all.)

 

“Detective Jung,” Yves greets. She’s sat on the ground, leaning back against the bed and bouncing an old tennis ball against the wall. She turns to look at Jinsol, “How are you?”

 

“Good,” Jinsol says shortly, “how’d the hearing go?”

 

Yves points to her cheek, “Lovely.”

 

She catches the tennis ball in her right hand before getting up and opening the latch.

 

“As much as I love seeing your pretty face,” Yves starts off lazily, making eye-contact with Jinsol through the glass, “ _why_ do they keep sending you to me? I have nothing else to tell you.”

 

Jinsol ignores the compliment, “My higher-ups think you’re holding back information.”

 

Yves snorts, “Is that so?”

 

Jinsol hums, “I think you’re holding back, too.”

 

“Sure, I am,” Yves replies, “but not in the way you’re thinking of.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I don’t have anything to say to help you capture my uncle,” Yves explains, “I just have a lot to say about that shit-hole association.”

 

“Then tell me,” Jinsol says, taking a step back to sit down on the chair. She flips open her bag, pulling out a notebook and clicking her pen, “what do you have to say about _that shit-hole association_?”

 

Yves grins, “Ah, ah,” she tuts, “I’m not exposing the association where all of these _criminals_ can hear me.”

 

Jinsol raises an eyebrow, “Then where are you going to tell me?”

 

Yves shrugs, “Anywhere but here.”

 

Jinsol glances down the hall, noticing the guards at the end of it.

 

She sighs and stands from the chair.

 

“I’ll be right back.”

 

-

 

Yves’ wrists are cuffed to the table as she sits across from Jinsol in the little interrogation room.

 

She looks around the area, humming, “Not exactly what I was expecting for our first date.”

 

“Seriously?” Jinsol mumbles, unamused as she looks at Yves.

 

Yves shrugs, “I was thinking a cute little candle-lit dinner. Maybe some wine. Do you like wine, detective?”

 

Jinsol clears her throat, tapping her pen against her notepad, “The _association_ , Yves.”

 

“Ah,” Yves nods, “right, right.”

 

Jinsol waits.

 

Yves lets out a sigh, probably realizing that Jinsol’s in work-mode and that she should stop messing around, “Most of the people we hire are desperate people. People who have nothing to live for.”

 

“Such as…?”

 

A shrug, “Druggies, homeless people, orphans… you name it. As long as they’re at a vulnerable point in their life and need something to live for; we’d manipulate them and give them something to live for.”

 

“And that _something_ was a job in the hitman business?”

 

“Yup,” Yves nods.

 

“Would you consider yourself as someone who’d been manipulated into the association?” Jinsol looks up from the words she’d been writing down to make eye-contact with Yves. She watches Yves’ eyebrows knit together as she frowns.

 

“Well, of course,” she replies, “I never did get to live a normal life. The association was all I had.”

 

Jinsol nods slowly, “Was the training process intense?”

 

“It was,” Yves answers, “it was also abusive as hell. One wrong move, one wrong word, and they send you into a cell where you’d get beat up in random time increments. I can’t count on my fingers how many times I’ve been sent there.”

 

Jinsol’s heart constricts, but she busies herself by writing down more notes.

 

“Do you consider yourself a victim, Yves?”

 

She looks up just in time to spot the widening of Yves’ eyes.

 

“Do I consider myself a victim?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No,” Yves says confidently, “I consider myself a survivor more than anything.”

 

Jinsol sets the pen down, opting to just pay close attention to Yves.

 

(She can always just go back and review the tape of their session later on.)

 

“A survivor, huh?” Jinsol replies, not in a condescending way. Her tone’s more of one in awe than anything else.

 

“Yeah. That’s all it was to me. Surviving. That’s all I had going for me, you know? And if I tried leaving the association, I’d die.”

 

“You’d die?”

 

“They’d kill me,” Yves explains, “you’re not allowed to leave, Detective Jung. The only way you leave is by dying.”

 

A chill runs through Jinsol.

 

“My death’s inevitable at this point,” Yves says, but she smiles.

 

It’s a soft smile, an accepting one.

 

And it makes anger bubble up inside of Jinsol.

 

“What happened to surviving?” Jinsol replies, throwing Yves’ words back at her, “Why have you accepted dying?”

 

“Because I’m tired,” Yves answers easily, “I’ve done this shit for twenty-five years. It’s exhausting.”

 

Jinsol’s frown deepens.

 

“Yves—”

 

“There’s an interconnected tunnel-way used by the association,” Yves cuts her off. She closes her eyes as she says this, “it’s an abandoned subway station. This underground base along with a few warehouses located near the north east of the town are where most of our operation occurs.”

 

Jinsol’s eyes flicker over to the one-sided mirror before returning to Yves, who still has her eyes closed.

 

“There are always multiple guards on the lookout, and we’re heavily armed,” Yves continues, “we’re most active at night because that’s usually when our jobs are done.”

 

She opens her eyes, looking up at Jinsol, staring directly into her eyes.

 

“Did that help?”

 

Jinsol’s mouth opens before she closes it and nods firmly.

 

“Thank you, Yves.”

 

“Yeah,” Yves replies quietly, “no problem.”

 

Jinsol gets up from the table, packing her things up.

 

“Wait,” Yves calls out.

 

“What is it?” Jinsol asks, anxious to get out of the room and talk to the other officers and detectives on the case.

 

“That picture of Chuu,” Yves mumbles, “do you have it?”

 

Jinsol blinks. She opens up her folder and takes the picture out.

 

“May I keep it?” Yves asks, “I’d just… It’d be nice to remember a time where I was happy.”

 

Without another word, Jinsol slides the photograph across the table, setting it in front of Yves.

 

Yves gives a small smile, and Jinsol turns on her heels to walk out of the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**encounter #5**

 

“We caught him,” Jinsol says as she nears Yves’ cell.

 

Yves is sat up on her bed, staring at something in her hands. She looks up when she hears the familiar voice and smiles. She gets up from the bed, heading towards the glass wall.

 

Jinsol notices that she’d been staring at the picture of Chuu.

 

“Congrats,” Yves replies, “did they send you back here to get more information out of me?”

 

“No,” Jinsol shakes her head. She sends a wary glance down the hall as she lowers her voice, “I’m actually not supposed to be here.”

 

“ _Oooh_ ,” Yves lets out scandalously, “breaking the rules, are we now, Detective Jung?”

 

“Don’t even start,” Jinsol lets out an amused chuckle.

 

Yves laughs, “So, what’s the visit for?”

 

“Well… I’m being relocated for another case,” Jinsol says.

 

Yves frowns, “Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” Jinsol coughs, feeling her stomach flutter at the clear disappointment painted across Yves’ features, “figured I’d pay you one last visit before leaving. Just to check on you.”

 

A playful smile grows on Yves’ lips, covering her frown, “What happened to us not being friends?”

 

“Be quiet,” Jinsol rolls her eyes, “talking to you has honestly been better than talking to the men I work with who don’t think I know how to do my job.”

 

“Becoming friends with a hardened criminal wasn’t part of the job description, was it?” Yves asks.

 

“ _Please_ ,” Jinsol says with _another_ roll of her eyes, “the last time I talked to you, you sounded about ready to end it all. It worried me.”

 

Yves scoffs, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything. Besides…” she gestures to the cell, “I’m pretty safe inside of here.”

 

“Good point,” Jinsol nods, trailing off.

 

Yves welcomes the silence.

 

The two just look at each other for a few moments, as if to memorize each other’s faces.

 

(At least, that’s what _Jinsol’s_ doing.)

 

“Don’t worry about me, Detective Jung,” Yves says finally, “I’ll be okay.”

 

“I’m sure you will,” Jinsol replies.

 

Yves’ smile softens, “Survivor here, remember?”

 

“I remember,” the blonde laughs quietly, “just… take care of yourself, alright, Yves?”

 

“Will do, detective,” Yves mock-salutes Jinsol. She lowers her hands, “take care of yourself, too.”

 

Jinsol nods, and turns to leave.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

—

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

It’s been nearly five years since Jinsol’s last seen Yves. And even with those five years being engulfed in so many other cases, Jinsol’s mind always seemed to drift towards the topic of Yves.

 

She’s embarrassed to admit it, but she’s sure that she’d been infatuated with Yves. Hell, she thinks she _still_ might be infatuated with her. Ignoring the fact that Yves is an _actual_ _criminal_ , Jinsol can’t help but find her alluring. Jinsol’s spent countless nights just thinking about the woman, wondering how she’s doing, wondering if she thinks about Jinsol the same way Jinsol thinks about her.

 

It’s all for naught, of course, because Jinsol knows she has no reason to be thinking of Yves like that. She’s met plenty of attractive criminals before, but none have stuck quite like Yves has.

 

(Maybe that’s just because deep down Jinsol knows that Yves is a good person.)

 

-

 

Jinsol’s assigned partner for this case, Kim Jungeun, looks around warily. Her gaze is sharp as she and Jinsol walk down the beach’s sandy shores.

 

“Jungeun, relax with the glaring,” Jinsol warns under her breath, “we’re supposed to be undercover, remember?”

 

Jungeun looks over to the taller woman, blinking embarrassedly, “My bad.”

 

“It’s fine,” Jinsol replies, “did you see anyone suspicious?”

 

“Not really…” Jungeun looks over her shoulder, “that lady behind us by the red umbrella is staring at us, though. Not sure why.”

 

“Might just be because we’re pretty,” Jinsol mumbles, and it makes Jungeun laugh.

 

Jinsol turns to look at where Jungeun had been looking at, and finds her breath hitching at the person staring right back at her.

 

_It’s Yves…_

 

“Jungeun, you go ahead,” Jinsol says distractedly, “meet me at the pier in an hour.”

 

“Huh? We’re supposed to stick together—”

 

“ _Go_ ,” Jinsol waves her off. Jungeun listens to the older woman, though not without shooting her a confused look.

 

She starts walking towards Yves, whose lips have turned up into a familiar-looking smile.

 

“I knew it was you,” Yves says as Jinsol nears her, “I almost didn’t recognize you without your blonde hair.”

 

“What are you…” Jinsol trails off, unsure of what to do/say. She kneels down in the sand next to Yves, who’s sitting up and looking at her, “What are you doing here?”

 

“I got out,” Yves states simply.

 

“ _Illegally_?”

 

“We don’t need the technicalities,” Yves shrugs, “but… should I start running before the cops get here?”

 

“I’m not going to call the cops on you, Yves—”

 

“Sooyoung,” Yves says.

 

“What?”

 

“My real name,” she says, “it’s Sooyoung.”

 

“Ah,” Jinsol’s mouth opens, “ _Sooyoung…_ ”

 

Sooyoung’s smile brightens, “You never did tell me your name, you know?”

 

Jinsol rolls her eyes, “You didn’t need to know it.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Sooyoung shrugs, “I’d like to know it now.”

 

“It’s Jinsol,” she replies.

 

“Hm… Jung Jinsol,” Sooyoung nods, testing the name on her tongue.

 

“How… How long have you been out?” Jinsol asks, tilting her head.

 

“About two years,” Sooyoung smiles, “I’ve been moving around a lot. Never staying in one place, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Jinsol scoffs, thinking about all the towns she’s been to all across the country because of her job, “I know.”

 

Sooyoung reaches forward, taking the pen from Jinsol’s shirt pocket.

 

“I don’t have a phone, but…” she holds out her hand palm-up, and then holds the pen out to Jinsol, “if you write your phone number down…?”

 

Sooyoung’s tone is cautious, like she’s giving Jinsol the option to reject her.

 

Jinsol’s not going to do that.

 

She takes the pen and scribbles down her number.

 

Sooyoung smiles, looking at the ink on her skin before looking up at Jinsol.

 

“Are you going to be in town for long?”

 

“Depends on how quick we solve this case. What about you?”

 

“I don’t usually plan ahead,” Sooyoung replies. She scrunches up her nose, “I’ll text you the hotel I’m staying at.”

 

Jinsol’s heart skips a beat.

 

“Okay, Sooyoung.”

 

-

 

It’s late as Jinsol walks down the hotel’s hallway, looking for room 342.

 

She hadn’t gotten time to visit Sooyoung during the actual investigation of her case, but they’d just wrapped things up and have a flight back to headquarters in the morning. Jinsol figured this’d be the perfect time to meet with Sooyoung.

 

After finally finding the room, Jinsol knocks twice.

 

She hopes Sooyoung’s not asleep.

 

(She’s not.)

 

The door swings open after a few moments, and Jinsol and Sooyoung are face-to-face.

 

They’d been face-to-face a week ago, but this feels different.

 

Sooyoung tugs Jinsol into the threshold of the room, closing the door behind Jinsol as she does so.

 

Without the glass barrier in between them, Jinsol suddenly feels like Sooyoung’s eyes are a lot more intense.

 

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up,” Sooyoung whispers, face barely illuminated by the dim bedside lamp.

 

They’re still standing by the door, and Jinsol’s back is nearly pressed against it.

 

“I couldn’t let myself get distracted during the case,” Jinsol says.

 

“I’m a distraction?”

 

“You were even when you were in a jail cell,” Jinsol laughs pathetically at herself.

 

“Hm… you thought about me often?”

 

“Yes,” Jinsol gulps, because Sooyoung’s moving closer.

 

Her eyes flutter close as soft lips ghost along her jawline, up to her ear.

 

“Good,” Sooyoung says, pressing a kiss to her lobe, “I thought about you, too.”

 

A gasp, and then a moan, and then Jinsol loses herself to soft touches made by calloused fingers and heavy kisses created by gentle lips.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


—

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sooyoung’s a constant in Jinsol’s life. She’s _always_ been, ever since their very first encounter.

 

And as spontaneous as their dates together are, Jinsol wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

 

Sooyoung has Jinsol’s phone number memorized at this point. She calls from strangers’ phones and from random phone booths on the street. She calls to check in on Jinsol, to ask about her day and to ask if she’s eaten yet.

 

She call to know where Jinsol is, to calculate if she can make it to her location before Jinsol’s relocated to somewhere else.

 

And whenever Sooyoung does manage to get to where Jinsol is, Jinsol feels on top of the world.

 

-

 

“Jinsol?” Sooyoung calls out into the dark room as Jinsol lays on her bare chest.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you remember what you told me all those years ago? About living for myself?”

 

“Yeah…” Jinsol shifts, leaning on one arm to look at Sooyoung’s eyes, “what about it?”

 

Sooyoung smiles at her, eyes heavy with sleep but still drowning in love.

 

“I think I’m finally doing it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> pls leave kudos and comments :3
> 
> twitter: @sxft_aus  
> cc: @sxft_aus


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